Obsession is gripping, blood-chilling, and absolutely stunning in its creative prowess. Stellarly inventive in its use of craft and deeply provocative in its scares, it’s a masterfully alarming cautionary tale, spearheaded by a star-making turn from Navarette.
“Careful what you wish for – you might just get it”: It’s an ancient proverb, yet its sentiments remain ominously contemporary. The allure of desire is always tempting, but when reality fails to match the fantasy, discomfort and even horror can fill the void. Curry Barker’s remarkable, nail-biting Obsession applies this proverb to a universal conflict. In taking its methodology to the absolute extreme, we get an engrossing cautionary tale that’s disturbing, riveting, and one of 2026’s best films.
What’s initially so captivating about Obsession is how mundane its setup is. It opens on Baron “Bear” Bailey (Michael Johnston) sitting in a diner, clumsily rehearsing a confession. Bear has long held romantic feelings for his childhood friend Nikki (Inde Navarrette). These feelings are not reciprocated, as observed by friends Ian and Sarah (Cooper Tomlinson and Megan Lawless), but Bear’s heart wants what it wants. His feelings of longing turn to panic when Nikki reveals she’s going to hand in her notice at the music store they work in.
This is but one in a series of unfortunate events that befall Bear that day. The only lull is when he visits a novelty store and, out of curiosity, buys a toy called a “One Wish Willow”, which supposedly grants the user a wish when broken. When Bear fumbles his love confession, he breaks the toy, wishing that Nikki would love him “more than anyone in the world”. Sure enough, Bear’s wish comes true… far too true.
One can easily see this premise being used for comedy or even drama. But Barker applies his story to the horror genre, with Bear’s wish backfiring in increasingly terrifying ways. The more you scratch under the surface, the more unnerving its premise gets. While Nikki’s behaviour following Bear’s wish is disquieting, it’s her loss of agency that’s the most frightening aspect. The film wisely keeps the workings of the One Wish Willow vague, but it’s implied that Nikki is somehow being possessed. Whatever is happening, she clearly only desired a friendship, not a relationship, with Bear. She is now trapped in her own body, forced to love someone to the point of having no other purpose or want in life. It’s spine-chilling to consider the ramifications of that.
Delicately nuanced characterisations heighten the unease, culminating in brutal results. Although Bear is socially awkward, there’s an earnestness to him that’s difficult not to identify with. His pining for Nikki is foolishly tunnel-visioned, as highlighted by his dynamics with Ian and Sarah. But who hasn’t felt the fear of confessing their feelings to their crush? Even Bear’s wish was arguably made in a moment of weakness after an awful day. But he’s also selfish and cowardly, flaws that threaten to be his undoing. Barker’s script intelligently spotlights that, however macabre Nikki’s actions get, Bear asked for this. He got exactly what he wanted without considering her autonomy, and even exploits this mystical coercion despite his unease. We still feel sympathy for Bear and understand his plight. But it’s his own fault for not taking no for an answer with Nikki. It’s a grey area as fascinating as it is sinister.
Barker is only 26 years old, but he is well-versed in filmmaking and direction, having crafted shorts, sketches and even the feature Milk & Serial via YouTube. He and his team bring intense, hair-raising craftsmanship to match the blood-curdling story. The lighting is suitably bleak, denying us any respite from the characters’ deep emotional turbulence. Close-ups keep the spoken and unspoken tension hanging in the air, all while sharp editing (also by Barker) jumps between lingering anxiety and sudden, shocking developments – one never overwhelming the other.
The blocking is especially notable within the visual tapestry. Certain shots where Bear is conversing with others keep Nikki in the background, sometimes out of focus, spookily showcasing the growing, involuntary obsession. Between Nikki’s possessed antics and several moments involving bodily fluids, one can draw eerie visual and stylistic parallels to The Exorcist. The film is even comfortable utilising comedy to both highlight the creepiness of its premise and for straightforward punchlines. That Barker and his team achieved this on a modest budget (reportedly under $1 million) is further evidence of their creative ingenuity.
Engaged, layered performances bring the inventiveness together. Johnston is quietly absorbing as Bear, capturing both the relatable lovestruck persona and the character’s subdued yet undeniably entitled tendencies in equal measure. Tomlinson and Lawless bring charm and gravitas to their supporting roles, their bafflement over Bear and Nikki’s new relationship grounding the bizarre antics into a distressing realism. However, Navarette is the clear standout. It’s an overtly demanding role, as her character becomes increasingly unhinged and menacing in line with the wishes’ consequences. It’s a physical, emotional and subdued effort all at once. That it is contrasted with the measured, emotionally intelligent restraint of Navarette’s acting pre-possession only makes her range more enrapturing. Her spellbinding performance is the best and scariest of its calibre since Kathy Bates in Misery.
Like the greatest horrors, the film’s deeper musings on conscience go beyond the ways it can generate fear. It naturally has a lot to say about romance, desire, and the lines between love and obsession, all explored through its gory set pieces, dark implications, and progressively unsettling twists. But it’s most powerful as an examination of objectification, namely how some men view women as possessions or trophies to win, rather than human beings with their own agency. When one considers how Bear is the architect for Nikki’s and his own suffering, it’s hard not to contemplate the harm that relentlessly pining for someone can cause. As a horror spectacle, it’s hugely entertaining, but the thematic richness underneath its gruesome imagination is as refreshing as it is thought-provoking.
Obsession is gripping, blood-chilling, and absolutely stunning in its creative prowess. Stellarly inventive in its use of craft and deeply provocative in its scares, it’s a masterfully alarming cautionary tale, spearheaded by a star-making turn from Navarette. Sure, one could probably pick away at loose threads within the story or central gimmick with enough scrutiny – Barker himself has highlighted this in interviews. But in terms of emotional resonance and conceptual bounty, Obsession rings hauntingly true and powerfully timely. In time, it may well stand alongside the genre’s greats.
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